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"At last!" she shrilly cried, in a voice that pierced even to the gaping listeners without "at last, Sir Jasper Kingsland! At last we meet again!" There was a horrible cry as the baronet started back, putting up both hands, with a look of unutterable horror. "Good God! Zenith!" "Yes, Zenith!" shrieked the woman; "Zenith, the beautiful, once! Zenith, the hag, the crone, the madwoman, now!
Weak, trembling, my lady leaned for a few moments against a tree, trying to recover herself, then turned slowly and walked back to the house to meet her husband. The Grange, the jointure house of the Dowager Lady Kingsland, stood, like all such places, isolated and alone, at the furthest extremity of the village.
"Her mother? I do not understand. What of her mother?" "Only this" Lady Kingsland arose as she spoke, her face deathly white, her pale eyes glittering "the mother is a myth and a mystery. Report says Captain Hunsden was married in America no one knows where and America is a wide place.
Not that I care what she says; but one hates to feel he is a laughing-stock." The ball-room was brilliant with lights, and music, and flowers, and diamonds, and beautiful faces, and magnificent toilets when the Kingsland party entered. Lady Carteret, in velvet robes, stood receiving her guests.
The air was full of it at last, to Wych Hazel's fancy; even the gentlemen, when they dared not speak openly, seemed in manner or tone to be commiserating or laughing at her. 'The diplomacy of truth! said Mr. Kingsland to Mr. Falkirk, as Hazel passed near them with Mme. Lasalle. 'I must believe in it as a fixed fact, where it exists!
Day after day our little scout of four traversed the roads and forests of the Kingsland district, warning the people at the outlying settlements and farms that the county militia-call was out, and that safety lay only in conveying their families to the forts and responding to the summons of authority without delay. Many obeyed; some rash or stubborn settlers prepared to defend their homes.
He showed her a picture, and she ran out of the room and fell into hysterics. Since then he has written to her, and mysterious personages females in disguise visit him at the Blue Bell. That is what they whisper, Everard; nothing more." "Nothing more!" echoed her mother. "Quite enough, I think. What would you have, Miss Kingsland? Everard, who is this man?"
"Do you dare speak in that tone to me?" She rose up from the table, livid with passion. "I repeat it, Sir Everard Kingsland your disgrace! Mystery shrouds this girl's birth and her father's marriage if he ever was married and where there is mystery there is guilt."
She put her face as nearly out of the coach as she could, and perhaps enjoyed the scenery, if anyone did. Mr. Falkirk gave no sign of enjoyment, mental or physical, and Mr. Kingsland would certainly have been asleep, but for losing sight of the brown veil and of possible something it might do.
'Why, there is your venerable guardian, Miss Kennedy! drawled out Mr. Kingsland, as Mr. Falkirk came in sight. 'How charming! Patriarchal. And who is that beyond? Dane Rollo! as I am a Christian! 'Evidently then, somebody else, said Mr. May. 'Who is it, Nightingale? But Mr. Nightingale knew his business better than to reply; and Dane presently spoke for himself.
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